When she ran in the morning, she would always stop along the path, about halfway into her run. There were groups of scraggly bushes to the side of the...path all through the park that would conceal what someone was doing, but not their presence. Normally, Becca would crouch in one of these areas, look around to make sure nobody could see her, and do her business. Because there weren't any people, she could simply pull her pants down (or remove them entirely, crouch or squat, and release her eager. "Do you feel any discomfort?" I questioned her. It just came out, the openness I always had with her mixed with this newly created intimacy. The question made her feel awkward, and it made her blush and look down at her hands. She didn't like me asking that. It was all over her face, and I regretted that instantly. I was still sailing this unknown area, a sea that divided me being an uncle and being a lover, and apparently, I sucked at it. However, it was beautiful to watch her struggling with. More

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